


The morning after the night before

by PenguinofProse



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Ark AU, Ark politics, But also romantic Bellamy Blake, Drunk Amnesia, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Irresponsible Bellamy Blake, Unity Day madquerade, age gap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:53:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28152666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenguinofProse/pseuds/PenguinofProse
Summary: In which Bellamy wakes up with a hangover and some interesting memories of a blonde Princess. Ark AU.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 18
Kudos: 150





	The morning after the night before

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OnlyZouzou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyZouzou/gifts).



> Part one of Zou's Christmas present, featuring drunk Bellamy with memory loss of the night he meets Clarke. Huge thanks to Stormkpr for betaing this as always. Happy reading!
> 
> Content note: alcohol and vomiting

Bellamy wakes up disorientated, head pounding, stomach rolling.

He scrambles out of bed, feeble but urgent. He dashes to the tiny bathroom, spews up an impressive amount of thin, acidic vomit. It's disgusting. He's always hated throwing up, and this is worst of all because it tastes so strongly of stale alcohol.

He falls to his knees, dizzy, but he knows he mustn't pass out. He's got to clean the bathroom, now, and then apologise to his mother and sister. God, his mother is going to be so disappointed. She won't be _angry_ – she doesn't do anger, as such – but she'll be so upset with him for letting her down, for behaving foolishly and recklessly. Not only has he made a stinking mess of the tiny apartment they share, but he's implicitly endangered his sister, too. Drunkenness is risky – he's had that hammered into his head since his early teens.

No wonder she had a second child. No wonder she decided Bellamy wasn't enough. He must be such a disappointment to her.

No. He knows it's not like that, logically. But in moments like this he finds it hard not to let his hurt heart run away with him.

He cleans up the bathroom as quickly as he can, tries to ignore the black spots sparking at the corners of his vision, the way the floor seems to lurch beneath his feet with more than the usual engine buzzing.

And then he takes a deep breath, braces himself, and sets out to face the music.

His mother and sister are sitting in their small kitchen and living area, chatting animatedly together. Bellamy waits for the moment that will turn sour – his mother will see him, and her face will fall, and Octavia will look scared.

That moment never comes.

"So when am I meeting your future wife?" His mother asks, all bright and breezy, as if nothing is the matter at all.

"My... future wife?" He echoes, deeply confused. The words are reminding him of something, but his head is still too fuzzy to figure it out.

"That's what you were calling her last night. Here, have a seat. I'll get you some water. Tell us more about this mystery girl."

There was a girl. He remembers that, now he's been prompted. There was _most definitely_ a girl. He can just see her in his mind's eye – gorgeous blonde hair, eyes sparkling blue behind her mask, holding herself with a seriously attractive air of confidence. And he can remember snatches of conversation, too, just odd phrases or a handful of seconds of back-and-forth.

 _His future wife_?

"I'm not sure what there is to say." He says, playing for time while he tries to figure out what the hell is going on. If he was raving about this woman so much, why does he remember nothing _useful_ about her? Why can he not even remember her _name_?

"You have to tell us everything." Octavia insists, bouncing slightly in her seat. "You were so excited, Bell. What's her name? What's she like? Where does she live?"

"She's incredible." He breathes, because he remembers that much. "She must live near us I think. Or else maybe farm station. We talked so much about liberating the poorer stations and how the council is way out of line."

His mother hands him a glass of water, smiling softly. "That sounds like a good start. And what was her name?" She presses.

He stares carefully at his water. "I don't remember."

There's a moment's silence. He dares to look up, sees his sister looking crestfallen but his mother looking strangely amused.

"Well you might want to learn that before the wedding, son." She offers lightly.

He gulps. Is she... teasing? Being affectionate and lighthearted and not totally preoccupied with Octavia?

"I'm not going to be marrying her if I can't remember her name, am I? I'll never find her again." He tries to pass it off as no big deal, something of a joke, but his words come out heavy and sad.

"I'm sure you could find her if you try. There are only so many people on this Ark." His mother points out. "But maybe do it sober, this time? I didn't mind the drinking when you were obviously having such a great time with this girl. It was good to see you happy. But you know it's not safe with -"

"With my sister." He concludes firmly. He's heard that often enough, before now.

But this morning, it's like he's hearing it for the first time. Drinking isn't safe, because drunk lips spill secrets. A drunk Bellamy might tell anyone anything, and might well accidentally reveal that his sister sleeps beneath the floor.

He starts to put the pieces together, builds a worrying picture. He was very drunk last night. He was with a woman his drunk self genuinely expected to marry. That woman thought the council were out of line, spoke like a rebel, inspired confidence despite her pink-princess outfit.

Did he tell her about Octavia?

He can just see himself doing that, won over by his attraction to her as well as his sudden instinct to trust her. He's always been terrible at thinking things through – that's probably why he decided to go get smashed at the Unity Day masquerade in the first place. He's such a damn fool, and he's furious with himself.

Furious with himself, and absolutely terrified.

"I need to find her." He announces, jumping to his feet, spilling the last drops from his water glass.

His sister looks somewhere between excited and worried. "Bell -"

"I have to. I have to find her." He insists, frantic, pulling on a sweater over last night's rumpled clothes.

His mother catches him at the door. She stops him, just for a second, hand on his cheek like he's a little boy again.

"Bellamy Blake. Take a deep breath for me. Just one. You're going to find her, OK? If even half of what you were babbling when you fell through the door last night is true, everything will turn out _perfectly_."

He nods. He's not sure he believes that – if he told his mystery girl anything about Octavia, nothing will ever be perfect again, he's pretty certain.

But he does as his mother tells him. He takes that deep breath. And as he sets out down the hallway, he's desperately hoping he won't disappoint her.

…...

He has a very vague idea of where he's looking, as he charges down the corridors. He's hunting for room two hundred. He remembers that from last night, a snatch of conversation.

" _Where are you taking me, Princess?"_

" _My place. Room two hundred -"_

_A crashing noise, a solar flare alert. And the conversation cut off there._

The thing, is, each station is made up of different decks. And each of the larger decks would have a room two hundred. So although it's a start, it's not the most complete address he could have recalled.

All the same, he gives it a try. He knocks on door two hundred of deck C of factory station, and when the door is opened by an elderly lady, he offers to help her with any chores she might have. There's a room two hundred on deck D, too, and this time he tells the tall young guy who opens the door that he must have the wrong address. And so it continues, all morning, until eventually he has tried every room two hundred on Factory or Farm station.

He wonders what to do now. He supposes it's possible that she didn't actually mean room two hundred, that the solar flare alert cut her off before she could finish the number. So that means it could be any room in the two hundreds, which is a hell of a lot of rooms.

He tries to think of other clues as to her contact details. Does he have a communicuff code on a slip of paper in his back pocket? He doesn't own a communicuff, but he could at least borrow one of the computers in the library to send a message. He checks his pockets, but no luck. Can he remember anything else useful? Did she mention living near any particular public rooms or facilities?

He can't remember. All he can remember are disjointed fragments of conversation, strangely familiar blue eyes behind a pink mask. He got to know her so quickly, almost had the impression he already knew her from somewhere.

" _Having fun yet, Princess?"_

_She snorts into her cup of moonshine. "I can be fun."_

" _Sure you can, Princess."_

" _Why do you keep calling me that?"_

" _Have you seen yourself, all pretty in pink? I couldn't call you anything else."_

He couldn't even call her by her damn name, he curses himself now. That would at least be a start.

He keeps searching for hours, going door to door. Sometimes he knocks, makes up an excuse for his presence. Other times he just loiters in a hallway and watches the people come and go until he's sure none of them are the girl from last night.

He needs to find her. But as the pounding in his head grows louder, and as his feet start to throb in his ill-fitting shoes, he begins to realise that he will not find her today.

…...

He perseveres for a long time, but eventually he heads home. He's tired enough now that he thinks there's some hope of exhaustion outweighing anxiety and him actually getting some sleep.

His mother is waiting up for him when he gets home, and that surprises him. It's not that she doesn't love him, it's just that he's spent the last sixteen years presuming she loves Octavia more.

"No luck?" She asks, when he walks heavily into the room. She must be able to read failure in his footsteps.

He shakes his head.

"Chin up, son. If you're as good together as you were saying, she'll be looking for you, too. You're bound to find each other eventually in a population this size."

"That's not it." He swallows. "What if I told her about O?" He asks, barely a whisper, his guilt stealing his voice.

To his surprise, his mother does not seem disappointed. Rather she seems only incredibly sad as she looks at him with kind eyes.

"If she's the rebel you think she is, she won't sell us out. I'm pretty sure you did tell her, Bellamy. You sounded absolutely _certain_ you were going to marry her. She won't turn us in."

He snorts. He knows his mother isn't a naive woman – life has been too hard on her for that. So either she's lying to spare his feelings or she's still a romantic at heart.

She's not sure which of those alternatives frustrates him the most.

"What if she does, though?" He presses.

"Then we live with it. I made my choice – and I know I made a choice for you, too, and I'm sorry for that. But we've been living on borrowed time ever since your sister was born. We're in no more danger now than ever. We're still more likely to get found out in a random inspection than from this fiancee of yours."

"I don't think I actually proposed. That seems like something I would remember." It's a desperate joke for a desperate night, and he's not sure he pulls it off.

His mother is wearing that understanding smile again. It's odd. If he knew all it took to get her attention for longer than five minutes was to fall in love, he might have gone drunkenly looking for a partner years ago.

"I don't understand how I fell for her so fast." He muses out loud.

"Because you already knew what you were looking for, and she was it – confident and caring with her heart in the right place. You didn't fall for her by accident, Bellamy."

No. He supposes that's probably true.

He heads to bed, then. He doesn't fall asleep quickly, despite his exhaustion. He lies awake a while, reciting drunken memories to try to lull himself to sleep. A flash of blue eyes, a warm but grudging laugh. A rant about the council and the unfairness of medicine rationing, tangled up with a question about his taste in old Earth rock music.

The thing he comes back to most often, in this tour of his memories? She really did seem into him. And if that's true, his mother might be right – his Princess might be looking for him every bit as eagerly as he's searching for her.

…...

Bellamy tries to pursue some more clues, in the days and weeks which follow.

He thinks about what his Princess said about a boy she knew whose father was floated for stealing medicine. But that's a story which is sadly all too common, and asking around on that theme gets him nothing. He spends hours upon hours walking down hallways whose doors are in the two-hundreds, keeping a lookout for any flash of that memorable blonde. He even considers hacking into the Ark identity database somehow – probably paying a sneak to do it – but he figures his family cannot afford to have the attention of the security forces drawn their way. And besides which, what would he even be looking for? He can't just type "blonde Princess" into the identity bar and hope for the best.

In the end, he gets really brave. He decides to ask one of his commanding officers on the guard. Sargeant Miller is a friendly guy with a kind face and a son a few years younger than Bellamy who occasionally tags along to training. That's what makes Bellamy think of it, really. It's clear that the sargeant dotes on his son, so he hopes he might be keen to help out another young man in a fatherly kind of way. And the Sargeant presumably moves in wider circles than Bellamy does, has sight of lots of security documents. There's some hope that he knows more people than Bellamy himself has managed to find in his search.

"Hi. Sir. Could I speak with you briefly?" He asks, nervous, after training one day.

His hunch was right. Sargeant Miller smiles kindly and nods in an encouraging sort of a way.

"It's not about the guard. It's more... personal. It's silly really. I guess I just – you seem like a great dad so I thought I'd ask you." He doesn't remember planning to say anything that honest, but the words come out of his mouth all the same.

"Go ahead, Cadet Blake. Bellamy. It's tough growing up without a dad, huh? My Nathan's had to manage without his mum for a long time now."

Bellamy nods, eager. This is exactly the sort of warm, supportive response he was hoping for. "OK. So like I said, it's silly. It's just I met this girl at the Unity Day dance but I didn't get her contact details. I didn't even get her _name_. I know that must sound a little pathetic but... but she seemed really special. So I wanted to ask if you've heard of any blonde girls, about five foot two, from Farm station or Factory, who might be looking for me."

"Definitely Farm or Factory?" Sargeant Miller asks, frowning curiously.

"Yeah. Why?"

"I just thought – never mind. I don't think I've heard of this mystery girl but I'll ask around. I'll ask my Nathan if he's heard anything, if that's OK? He seems to have a lot of friends."

"Yeah. Sure. Ask whoever – I really want to find her."

"We'll track her down." Sargeant Miller says, patting him on the shoulder as he imagines a father or at least an uncle might. "Everyone loves a good romance. Have you thought of putting up posters in the gym and the canteen?"

Paper is a precious resource on the Ark. But as soon as he hears the idea, Bellamy knows he needs to make it happen.

…...

The posters have been up a week when Bellamy starts losing hope. He made five, having bought the sheets of paper with his cadet wages. His mum encouraged him to and everything, even though the money usually goes to feeding Octavia.

He feels really pathetic now. He's put a lot of effort and much-needed money into finding this girl. He even reached out to his commanding officer for help. And not so much as the slightest sign of her?

She must be avoiding him on purpose.

…...

She finds him, in the end.

Or rather, she rounds a corner in a hallway near med bay, sees him, and turns around at once.

Yes. Definitely avoiding him.

"Hey! Wait up! Princess!" It feels odd to yell an affectionate nickname at a fleeing stranger, but he's absolutely certain it's her.

For a moment, he thinks she'll run anyway. But she ultimately does as he asks, freezes, turns slowly on the spot to face him as he jogs towards her.

He gasps. Now that he's approaching more closely, now that she's facing him head on without a mask in the way he figures it out. He knows why she seemed familiar, even though they've only met once. She's the daughter of that Griffin woman off the council – he could swear it.

What's her name? Corrine? Claire?

He's not sure. He's only seen her sometimes in the background of news clips or mentioned in passing in an article about Dr Griffin, the woman who has it all.

As opposed to Aurora Blake – the woman who has _nothing_.

Maybe that's what makes him say it. Or maybe he's hurt that she's not responded to his posters, or that she doesn't even look vaguely happy to see him. Or perhaps it's more that he's genuinely devastated by this turn of events – not only does his supposed _future wife_ turn out to be the daughter of a councilwoman, but she doesn't even seem to like him as much as he likes her.

 _Liked_ her. Liked her before he knew better.

Anyway, for whatever reason, he lashes out before he can think twice.

"What – too good to talk to me now you're sober?" He asks, sharp.

She bristles. "No. Too young, remember?"

"Too young?" He echoes, confused.

"I get it." She continues, voice a little too prickly for his liking. "I know I put you in an awkward position, but I didn't mean to. I never lied to you. But you've made yourself clear so I'm leaving you alone and -"

"What do you mean, too young?" He cuts her off, urgent. What is all this nonsense?

"Yeah. You froze up the minute you found out I'm barely older than your sister." She tells him, bitter, but voice lowered as her eyes dart around the empty hallway.

"Sister?" He hisses out a whisper. "I told you about that? I – I'm sorry. I drank way too much that night. I don't remember much."

She frowns at him. It's honestly the most agonising few seconds of his life. He doesn't even _like_ the girl for goodness' sake – she's Alpha scum. But it's still disconcerting to stand here while she judges him for his irresponsible choices.

But then she speaks, and he feels somehow worse.

"You told me _everything_. One minute it was like we were going to be best friends forever and – and get _married_ and all that, and you were heading back to mine with me. And then the next minute I mentioned my birthday and you gave me this awkward hug and walked off."

"I – I think maybe I didn't explain myself well." He offers feebly. It's the understatement of the century probably.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that – that I really did like you. Just because you're too young now doesn't mean you'll be too young forever. That's how age works, right? Like seventeen and twenty two is a lot, but twenty five and thirty? That's normal."

She's frowning at him. Aha. Yes. He might have gotten ahead of himself there.

"Was I really going to head back to Alpha with you?" He asks – partly because he feels a desperate need to know, but largely to get her to stop looking at him like that.

"I didn't tell you I was from Alpha." She admits, eyes suddenly rooted to the floor. "I was just going to keep walking and let you figure it out. I didn't have much of a plan for you meeting my mum either. I wasn't looking forward to trying to explain to you that I love her as family even though I hate some of the decisions she makes."

He laughs. He can't help it. But he can see from her stiff jaw right away that it's the wrong thing to do, so he bites down hard on his lip instead.

"Sorry." He mutters. "I really have screwed this up. Can we maybe start over?"

"Start over?" She asks, eyes narrowed. "Start over at _what_? You made it sound like you'd got me parked for later for the next eight years."

"Maybe we could be friends." He suggests, trying to sound calm and confident but really cringing inside at his own hopelessness.

"Friends?"

"Yeah." He swallows. "You – you're the coolest person I've ever met, I'm pretty sure. And I'd really like to introduce you to my sister."

She hesitates a second. Bellamy thinks it might be the longest second of his life. If the next eight years are going to pass this slowly, he thinks he'll have gone grey by the time he allows himself to think romantically of this girl.

But then she speaks, and his day gets a hell of a lot brighter.

"OK. Let's try it. Let's start over as friends."

He grins widely, sticks his hand out towards her. "Great. I'm Bellamy Blake. Pleasure to meet you."

"Clarke Griffin. The pleasure's all mine." She says, sweet and teasing all at once. One thing's for sure. He's going to smile a lot more, with Clarke around.

They spend the next couple of hours together doing a great deal of nothing. They wander the hallways, getting to know each other sober for a change. He explains his mistaken belief that she was from Factory or Farm station, and she apologises for not seeing the posters he put up around those parts of the Ark. It turns out Sargeant Miller is a reasonably friendly acquaintance of the Griffin family, but ruled Clarke out of Bellamy's hunt on the basis of station, too.

Huh. Maybe he ought to try letting go of these bitter station prejudices, one of these days. He seems to remember one of the things he liked about Clarke right from the start was the fact he genuinely believed they might be able to change people's lives for the better, together.

But in a totally platonic way, of course. At least for now. At least until she's a little older than seventeen and he doesn't feel like such a creep.

…...

Clarke comes to meet Octavia the following day, her pockets stuffed with food. She unloads packets of protein paste, pouches of cereals, and even one shiny red apple.

"Sorry. I hope this doesn't look too – too _alpha_." She says, self-conscious, smiling awkwardly around the room.

"Not at all, dear. We're grateful for it. But you really don't need to do this every time you come to visit." Bellamy watches his mum smile kindly as she tries to reassure Clarke.

Clarke smiles back, a little less awkward this time. "Thanks. So Bellamy's told me a lot about you guys. And it sounds like I've remembered more of it than he remembers telling me it."

That has them all laughing, even as Bellamy feels his cheeks flushing. He feels pretty foolish for forgetting what he supposes he might have wanted to look back on as the best night of his life.

But it seems like Clarke is intending to stick around, so perhaps they will get the chance to make other happy memories.

They spend a cheerful evening together, eating heartily and watching one of Octavia's favourite movies. Or rather, the movie is playing, but they are all more busy getting to know each other than truly watching.

At the end of the evening, Bellamy says goodbye to Clarke with an awkward hug. She doesn't _feel_ the same age as his sister, and he thinks that might prove a test of his sanity.

…...

Time passes. Their hugs get less awkward. He doesn't get any less in love with her than he was that first night.

He meets her parents and likes them more than he expected to. Abby takes him aside and says outright and straightforwardly that she's trying her best to advocate for humane reform within a system that doesn't seem to have much time for either reform or humanity.

Personally, he's not sure he has much time for working within the system. If left to his own devices he thinks he'd gladly just smash the councilors' heads together. But since he met Clarke, everything feels a bit different. It's like he has a stake in society, a vested interest in not rocking the boat too much.

It's like he has a future.

He wonders whether maybe this would have happened anyway. Whether maybe he'd have stopped being such an angry young man and grown into more of a level-headed guy who wonders about standing for a leadership role himself, one day.

No. He thinks probably it's largely thanks to Clarke – not just her personality and the way they bring out the best in each other, but also the fact that the thought of a future with her gives him something worth holding out hope for.

His relationship with Jake is simpler. The first time they meet, Jake pats him rather paternally on the shoulder.

"I hear you're a good one, Bellamy. I'm not going to tell you to take care of Clarke. I'm going to recommend you let her take care of you once in a while."

Jake isn't his father, and never tries to be. But he's the closest to a father figure he will ever have, and for that he's grateful.

…...

Clarke is nineteen and Bellamy is twenty-four by the time she wears him down. It's not the eight years' wait they seemingly plucked out of thin air that first day they found each other again, but it's enough that he no longer feels guilty for not seeing her as a child. She's a full time medical apprentice, and he figures that makes her very much an adult in terms of her emotional maturity. He's sure that she really does know what she wants, and that he's not taking advantage of some youthful naivety.

There's that, and there's also the fact she's driving him crazy. He just doesn't want to wait any longer.

It all starts with a conversation about politics, of course, because that is how things always seem to go with them. Abby has been working on an act to recategorise some crimes as not requiring capital punishment – and Clarke has made a great fuss about wanting to get some experience in politics, possibly standing for office herself one day, and in the process she has added accidental additional children to the list of non-capital crimes.

So it is that, tonight, when he walks into her bedroom and finds her beaming with joy, he suspects he knows what has happened.

"It passed? They voted it through?" He asks, presuming that is the source of her good mood.

"Not just that. I didn't want to tell you because we weren't sure it would work. But it did so – yeah. Accidental additional children are completely decriminalised. My mum presented evidence that it's only possible in the case of medical negligence causing a failure of the contraceptive implant."

He hesitates a moment, tries to wrap his head around this. "Your mum is taking the fall for – for cases like my mum and O?"

"Yeah. We should maybe give it a week for the dust to settle so no one accuses her of corruption when it turns out her son-in-law has been hiding a little sister. But then Octavia can come out and see the world."

"Did you just call me your mum's son-in-law?"

"Maybe I did."

He laughs, hugs her tight. He's never been so happy in his life, he's pretty sure. He knows that decriminalising additional children is not the end of inequality on the Ark. He knows there are still battles to be fought – distribution of wealth and resources, quality of public infrastructure on the poorer stations, education pathways – but it's a damn good start.

And he knows that he and Clarke will pick up the baton, one of these days, and get to work on changing their people's lives for the better.

She pulls away from the hug first. She looks up at him, positively glowing with joy, and honestly, she's never looked more beautiful. She's just wandered home in the clothes she wore to work but she looks even more stunning than the night they met, he's pretty sure.

Not that he remembers that too clearly, of course.

He can't hold it back any longer. He kisses her, soft but insistent, holds her close against him as he tries to show her what she means to him. He's been waiting to do this a long time, and he makes the most of it, tasting her sweet mouth and enjoying the breathy gasps she gives as things start to get more heated.

He pulls away at last. He really wants to keep at it, take things further, steer her towards the bed that sits so conveniently in the corner of her room. But he needs to check that she really is OK with this new development in their relationship, first.

She's happy with it – _more_ than happy with it. He can see it in the flush of her cheeks and the light in her eyes.

"We must have some kind of record for the longest gap between first and second kiss." She suggests lightly.

"Did we kiss that night?" He always presumed they didn't – it seemed like something he would remember.

"Yeah. Not a lot. Enough to leave me wanting more." She tells him brightly.

"I'm never going to forgive myself for forgetting so much of that night."

"It's OK. There will be other memories." She reassures him, reaching up to peck him softly on the neck. "And you're a cute drunk." She adds, as if an afterthought.

He laughs. "You too, Princess. Cutest drunk of them all."

She smiles a knowing smile and reaches out to clasp his hand. He thinks he can see where this is going, but he plays stupid, lets her boss him around for a moment. He always has found her confidence pretty attractive, remember?

Sure enough, he was right. She leads him straight to the bed, and they get on with making a few new memories.

…...

Bellamy wakes up happy, grounded. He wakes up feeling confident like he has never felt in his life before, and listens to the sound of Clarke's soft breathing blending with his own. He remembers everything about the night before, and he's glad of it. He remembers Clarke's stunning figure as well as her bold attitude and winning smile.

When Clarke stirs at last, she picks up from where they left off last night without awkwardness or self-consciousness. She gives him a good morning kiss, then quirks a brow as if asking whether he wants to make some more fun memories, right this moment.

"I should get home." He says reluctantly, by way of answer to her silent question. "I need to tell my mum and sister about my future wife."

He expects her to laugh at that. It's half a joke, after all. But she looks very serious as she peers up at him.

"The wedding's still on, then?" She asks, carefully light.

"The wedding's been on since the moment I met you."

He swallows. He wasn't planning to do this here and now, doesn't have a ring. But what better way to make something good out of the morning after the night before?

"I love you." He tells her, the words rolling easily off his tongue. "I know we only just got together properly but – but will you marry me?"

"Of course I will." She says, and he can practically hear her rolling her eyes even as she snuggles deeply into a hug. "I love you, but you really are silly sometimes. Only just got together? We've been together in all the ways that really matter for years."

He grins. He likes that, and he thinks it's probably true. He squeezes Clarke tight, allows himself a moment to press kisses to the crown of her head and whisper words of love into her hair.

She pulls away from the hug first, pragmatic as ever. "You don't want to be late for your shift." She reminds him gently.

"Is getting engaged an acceptable reason to be late for duty?"

"That depends. Who's your supervisor today? Shumway or Miller?"

"Miller."

"Then we're fine." She says, lying back on the pillows with a laugh. "He'll be too happy for us to care. And I don't have to be in until midday. Want to teach me how to suck you off?"

Yes. He likes the sound of that, actually. More than anything, he likes the sound of spending a lazy morning with his future wife.

She's incredible, and he intends to make sure she remembers it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
